OffBalance
by Wldwmn
Summary: Post-"Strawberries and Cream", spoilers for same. Rigsby reflects on the aftermath of the events in the finale. Slight Jisbon, mention of Chelise, slightly more Rigspelt. Rated T for language and references to adult activities.


**Disclaimer: Not mine, sadly.**

**Summary: Post-"Strawberries and Cream", spoilers for same. Rigsby reflects on the aftermath of the events in the finale. Slight Jisbon, mention of Chelise, slightly more Rigspelt. Rated T for language and references to adult activities.**

**Off-Balance**

When I found out that Jane had shot and killed Red John, I was glad I was holding onto something, even if it was just the edge of a table. It meant I didn't just drop to the floor.

Did I really have the right to be surprised? This is what he's been saying he was going to do this whole time. He's never lied or misdirected us as to this particular purpose. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised at all. So why did it feel like someone had kicked my legs out from under me?

Maybe some part of me never believed he'd go through with it. Jane's such a gentle guy most of the time. Sure he can be a jerk and manipulate people, including us, but the only time I can really remember him seriously hurting someone was when he shot Hardy. And even that was only to save Lisbon's life.

When Jane told us that the mole wasn't Bertram, it was O'Laughlin, I could feel my heart turn to ice and drop into my stomach. My head spun. Cho and I were so far away; there was no way we'd get to that cabin in time.

What a mess when we arrived. Two sheriff's deputies dead, Lisbon had been shot, and Hightower and Grace had to kill O'Laughlin. My poor Grace. I remember having the most ridiculous thought as I walked in: how is she going to explain this to her family? "Sorry, the wedding's off, I had to shoot him"? I guess it was my brain trying to process the enormity of it all without really dealing with what it meant. Thank goodness I didn't say it out loud.

I knew I couldn't stand the man, but when I saw the necklace he'd given Grace clenched in his fingers I got even angrier. You were _dying_, you sick bastard, and you still had to rip that necklace off her just to make sure she knew you never really loved her at all? That was just mean. How could he betray her and try to kill her and be so small and _mean_ on top of it?

Cho and I were still in the cabin a couple hours later when he reached for his phone. I had no idea who he was calling until he started to talk. "Elise, it's me. Yeah. Are you free tonight? I'd like to come over. No, I'd be staying over. Thank you. I'll see you soon." That was all.

"Sure that's a good idea, man? She might grill you, ask some pretty tough questions about the past few days," I said.

Cho looked at me for a minute before answering. "No, she won't. Elise never pushes," he said. "That's why I love her."

Cho is always pretty plain spoken, but he usually keeps his personal life to himself. The straightforward admission caught me off-balance. Like everything has lately.

###

A day later, I go to see Lisbon in the hospital. They put her arm in a sling and bandaged her up. I think they gave her some pretty hefty painkillers too, but she wasn't touching them yet. I was about to ask her if she was okay, when I caught the look in her eyes. There's anger there, and deep sorrow. Someone had told her about Jane. She wasn't okay.

"Rigsby, I need you to drive me to see Jane. I've only got one good arm at the moment so I can't get there by myself," she says, her voice deceptively calm.

"Boss, are you sure you want to see him right now? He's been arrested and you're in the hospital. Maybe you should give it a couple days," I say. I don't say what I'm really thinking, which is that I don't want to be a witness to her beating the crap out of Jane. Because maybe he does deserve it, but maybe he doesn't and I just don't want to be there.

"Please, Rigsby. Do as I ask." Lisbon still sounds so calm; it's starting to worry me. Why isn't she acting more upset?

I give in. "Okay," I say, and shrug. I do know where they're holding him, after all.

###

The drive is quiet and tense. After everything that has just happened, small talk just feels wrong. So we sit in silence.

When we get there, there's some arguing with the officials. They don't want to let us see Jane, but Lisbon isn't having any of it. She refuses to leave and threatens to call some serious higher-ups until they finally agree.

As we walk down the hallway I get a feeling of dread. How long is Jane going to be here? Will we only be able to see him in here from now on? He really did drive us all crazy, but things just wouldn't be the same without him.

We are shown into a room. Jane is already there, looking reasonably alert but relaxed. His eyes show no trace of regret when he looks at me. But when he sees Lisbon, with her arm in a sling and her face set so hard and accusing, he seems very sorry indeed.

I brace myself for what I'm sure will come next. Lisbon will take a deep breath and it will come out in a yell like a sonic boom. His job, his mind, his parentage may all be called into question. There might even be a stinging slap to the cheek or a punch in the nose. It turns out I'm going to be surprised.

Lisbon does take a deep breath, but she just exhales very slowly. Then she sits down across the table from Jane, places her good arm in front and leans towards him slightly. Her mouth opens and she says three short words – "How _could_ you?" Then I'm shocked again as she starts to cry silently, big fat tears splashing onto her sling and shirt.

Jane is even more distressed by this than I am. "Please, Lisbon," he says, "Please don't cry." He reaches forward, still in cuffs, and takes her hand.

Oh, that will do it. He touched her, and now she's going to pull her hand back and sock him with it, I bet.

She takes a shaky breath, still crying, and says, "Don't. You. **DARE**. Tell me what to do, Patrick Jane." But she doesn't pull her hand away. She brings his hands up to her face and holds them against her cheeks.

I can see his thumbs softly stroking her skin as he murmurs "Teresa" and his own eyes well up, though no tears fall.

Wow. How did I never notice this? Is it something new? Or have they really been hiding that well the entire time? Because I'm witnessing one of the most tender and intimate moments between two people I've ever seen, in the strangest circumstances I can think of. Not to mention the least likely pair I could come up with. And all I want to do is leave the room and give them some privacy.

"Uh, guys? I'm going to wait outside," I say, and stumble slightly as I exit without even waiting for a reply.

###

It's been two weeks now. We're all on mandatory leave. Cho and I are in regular touch, but Lisbon is keeping mostly to herself. Maybe she's embarrassed about the scene with Jane in prison. I'm surer than ever that it's something I wasn't meant to see. It's not my business to say anything, so I haven't mentioned it to anyone. I haven't even told Cho, but when he asked if Lisbon had slugged Jane during the visit, I think the tone of my "No" said a lot.

I haven't heard a word from Grace. I know that she went home to her parents' house once we got the news that we were basically all suspended. I haven't tried calling her; I don't really dare. What would I say? I'd just end up tripping over my tongue like I used to. But I want to see her. I want to know she's all right, or at least as all right as she can be. It hurts me to know she's so unhappy, cliché as it sounds. Because I still love her.

I'm sitting at home, drifting off in front of the late news when there's a knock at my door.

###

"Grace?" I say, not believing the eye that just checked the peephole. I open the door and there she is.

To me, Grace is always beautiful, but right now she looks so haunted. Her face is too pale, and her sweet hazel eyes are red and rimmed with dark circles.

"Wayne, can I come in?" she asks, and I immediately move aside to let her step through. I follow her into my living room and lean against the doorway for support. It's been a long time since she was in my apartment.

"I haven't heard from you in a while, Grace. How are you holding up?" I say, and immediately feel like an idiot. What a dumb thing to say.

"A little better. I spent a good solid week crying in my mom's bed at home. I feel a bit wrung out, to tell you the truth. This is a lot to take in, you know? I think I may still be in shock," she says, and almost sounds embarrassed. Ashamed to be unsettled after her world was turned upside down and she had to kill a man she loved and planned to marry.

"Hey," I say and reach out towards her, "It _just_ happened two weeks ago. It's okay that you're still not feeling normal. It _is_ a lot to take in. It's been a big shock to all of us, but especially you."

She takes my hand and squeezes it. "Thank you. I'm sure Lisbon is pretty messed up, too. She got shot, and now with Jane in jail for shooting Red John… well, I know she's really upset. She hasn't been answering my calls, anyway."

I frown and say, "Yeah well, whatever is going on between her and Jane, she wasn't marrying him before all of this. You even bought the dresses, Grace. God, I am so sorry. You know I really wanted you to be happy, right? That it wasn't just lip-service so I could spill my guts about still being in love with you?"

She nods her head, tears in her eyes. "I do know. You were very adult about it. You realized your limits and were polite enough to let me know ahead of time instead of just not showing up. I just… I just wish… I don't even know what I want to say anymore. What the hell happened to my life, Wayne?"

My stomach lurches. How on earth am I supposed to answer that one? I settle for "I wish I knew what to tell you, Grace. This has been such a disaster. I'm not sorry Hightower is being given a fair trial, or that Red John is dead. But nearly everything else about this, from the time Lisbon got stuffed into a vest-bomb until Jane… did what he did, has been a nightmare for us. But I'm still your friend, and I will do whatever I can to be there for you. You can always trust me."

That's when her tears start to fall for real. "How can you be so good to me?" she sobs. "I broke up with you even though you were in love with me and ready to change jobs for us to stay together. I started going out with someone else in front of you, and he turns out be a spy for Red John! Why can't you yell at me for being an idiot? How can you stand there and be so understanding and kind?" The last word is drawn out as she desperately breathes in between wails.

It's just too much for me. I step closer to her and pull her into my arms. "You are _not_ an idiot. None of us knew he was a spy. If we had known, we wouldn't have needed to go through with that damn scheme at the hotel," I say, and she lifts her head to look me in the eyes. "As to why I'm not yelling or calling you names or hating you, Grace, haven't you suffered enough? You know I'm in love with you. Even if I were so mad at you that I thought those things, I would love you enough to never say them. And I don't think them, Grace, I truly don't."

She keeps looking up at me, but her gaze has lowered and she's now watching my lips. We've done this before, so why am I still caught by surprise when her hand slides to the back of my neck and she pulls me in for a kiss?

Whatever the reason, I _am_ surprised and my knees buckle. Thank goodness we were right next to my couch when I fell, pulling her down with me. She doesn't break the kiss, though; she presses closer to me and sweeps her tongue across my bottom lip. How I'd missed her kisses, and wanted to have them again. Her thighs straddle mine as she rocks her hips against me. Her body still felt so warm and soft and right. But this _couldn't_ be right. I had to stop.

I pull away, wincing slightly at the disappointed whimper she makes. "Grace, no. This isn't the right time for this. We can't."

She looks at me again, the hurt still in her eyes. "You don't want to? You don't want me anymore?"

I shake my head. "That's not it at all," I say forcefully. "Believe me, Grace, at this moment I'd like nothing more than to carry you to my bed and make love to you until neither of us can remember the past 18 months. Then you and I wouldn't have to think about how awful we feel right now. But I'm not going to take advantage of you just because I want you and you need comforting. I won't do that."

"What if I beg you to?" she whispers. "Please, please Wayne. Take me and make love to me and make me forget. Hold me and kiss me and chase my nightmares away. I can't be alone tonight. Please, I just want to forget." Her eyes are still swimming with tears, and my heart is breaking.

"Grace, sweetheart, please don't do this to me. I love you so much and I'm only human," I say, begging her in return. This is just going to be difficult no matter what I say or do, it seems. I don't think I'm strong enough to refuse her again, either.

Thankfully, Grace doesn't test the last of my resolve. She sighs but stays close, keeps her arms around me. "Can I stay here tonight, at least?" she asks. "I don't want to go back to my dark empty apartment. "

I relax a bit. "Of course you can," I say. "I can make up the couch if you like."

"That's not exactly what I meant. Can we sleep together in your bed? Just sleep. Is that too much?" she continues.

"No, it's not too much. Come on," I say, disentangling from her and standing up. I hold out my hand and pull her up from the couch.

My bedroom is a bit of a mess, frankly, but she doesn't even seem to notice. I hand her the same soft old t-shirt and shorts I used to keep for her on sleepover nights, back when we were together. I figure she's going to go into the bathroom to change, but she just strips down right in front of me. She's still lovely and perfect from head to toe in my eyes. I don't leave to change, either; I guess it really is pointless when I think about it. Nothing we haven't seen before, after all.

We crawl into my bed, and she immediately cuddles close to me. I can't resist wrapping my arms around her and I don't even try. She leans in and kisses me again, softly, just once. I plant another kiss in her soft red hair and hold her tight.

All of a sudden, I feel totally different. I've been off-balance for so long that I don't recognize the new sensation at first. But lying here with my arms around Grace, I'm perfectly stable. And all I can do is hang on and hope it will last.

**The End**

**A/N: Okay, so that's my angst-ish one shot for the season break. Not many fics seem to be dealing with the VanPelt/Rigsby post-finale weirdness. By the way, I still have no idea how Rigsby resisted VanPelt in this, and I wrote it. I'm wondering if a sequel may be in the future for this story. What do you think?**


End file.
